(Bonus Chapter)
Sanctuary Scion had originally assumed that Seiun Ryoka would choose a pace-stalking strategy, with North Wind taking the lead. In that scenario, she had planned to stay glued to Ryoka's tail.
Instead, Seiun Ryoka had chosen to set the pace herself, completely throwing Sanctuary Scion's entire plan into disarray. Left with no better option, she buried herself in the middle of the pack, content to play the role of an ordinary horse girl who did not stand out.
What in the world was Seiun Ryoka thinking?
She didn't understand.
Far away in Tokyo, the Kasamatsu horse girls had gathered together, fighting through the time difference to watch the race. Norn Ace was as noisy as ever, but Oguri Cap was staring at the screen with unusual gravity. Once the opening phase was over, she tilted her head weakly, and even her ears drooped against her hair.
If she could, Oguri Cap very much wanted to ask Seiun Ryoka a single question:
What do you mean by this?
Why abandon the much more comfortable pace-stalking or closing tactics and choose to lead from the front? There was no logic to it at all.
Oguri Cap could picture it perfectly: horseshoes striking the firm yet springy turf, producing a heavy, steady rhythm. But the wind that came afterward was nothing so kind. It was completely unreasonable.
Because of Seiun Ryoka, Oguri Cap had specifically gone looking for information on the St. Leger Stakes. She knew that once the field exited the first turn, they would run straight into a brutal headwind.
And she was worried.
Just as expected, a violent gale came surging in from the front-left, making the horse girls instinctively hold their breath.
The wind rolled on and on without pause, one wave after another, like an invisible giant hand ruthlessly pressing down on every horse girl straining forward.
The field had anticipated it, of course. They had all trained specifically for it. But under the watchful eyes of the crowd, with invisible pressure layered on top of that invisible gale, what they were forced to endure was nowhere near as simple as "twice as hard." The wind tore their rhythm apart.
And yet, in that very instant, they saw something like "silver wings of moonlight."
Seiun Ryoka's silver-white hair whipped violently in the gale, making her look like a fearless petrel facing down a storm—or else a pair of pure white wings spread wide, determined to soar even against a headwind.
Looking at her back, the horse girls could almost hear the sound of a banner snapping in the wind.
A small ripple of chaos ran through the pack.
When another savage gust slammed into them, a chestnut-haired horse girl running diagonally behind Ryoka, about three lengths back, let out a sharp cry before she could stop herself. To keep her balance, she instinctively lowered her center of gravity and eased off her pace, her breathing rhythm thrown badly out of sync. It felt as though the wind had seized her throat.
The distance between her and Seiun Ryoka, which had been relatively steady until then, instantly widened by another full length.
The horse girls out on the outside lane suffered even more.
The gale struck them without the slightest obstruction, outlining the struggle in the lines of their racing outfits. Every time they lifted a leg, it felt as though they needed to summon even more force just to overcome the extra resistance. Their strides were no longer as solid and powerful as before, and their speed began to decay in visible fashion.
They had no choice.
If they didn't adapt, their whole bodies might start swaying under the force of the wind. That would waste even more stamina—and possibly even lead to danger. Under those conditions, the only thing they could do was suppress their rising irritation and look for a chance to cut back into the inner rail.
They had thought they could overcome it.
They had not expected the pressure and resistance to be this overwhelming.
Sanctuary Scion had anticipated this exact development. She held the rail firmly, giving no one any room to slip inside.
On this stretch, the gale was like a brutally strict examiner, mercilessly and impartially testing everything the horse girls had prepared for this race—strength, stamina, balance, and above all, their judgment and willpower in adversity.
Slow down. Adjust. Struggle.
That smooth little combo had become the shared reality of nearly every horse girl on the track.
Yet while the others looked increasingly battered by the headwind, the silver-white figure at the front carved the racecourse cleanly in two, turning the scene into something entirely different.
That figure was Seiun Ryoka.
The wind struck her with the same force as everyone else—no, more than that. As the leader, she bore the heaviest resistance of all.
The gale howled and roared as it crashed into her, trying to make her submit to its might, trying to force her to slow down.
But Seiun Ryoka's response was simple.
She would not waver in the slightest.
She would continue forward, steadily—and seize victory with her own hands.
She lowered her center of gravity. Not only did she refuse to slow, she actually accelerated, driving forward in a beautifully streamlined posture.
The taut, powerful muscle groups of her body rose and fell exactly as she willed them to. No matter how viciously the gale battered her, her frame never shook, and her stride never once showed hesitation or faltered under the headwind.
Every step she took was firm.
Every step was unwavering.
The very sound of her horseshoes striking the ground was almost enough to weave a hymn.
At that moment, the girl was taking flight.
Sweat ran down her cheeks? Her long hair had become a burden in the wind?
It didn't matter.
All she had to do was cut herself a path with greater strength, finer technique, and an even more exquisite command of her own body.
What was drag?
She would simply slice through it.
"Oh! Oh!" The host and commentator practically shouted at the same time.
"Seiun Ryoka! It's Seiun Ryoka! Exposed to the headwind, she hasn't slowed like the others to preserve her stamina—instead, she's charging forward! She's like a storm-piercing petrel cutting through the sea spray!"
Why had her pace looked so strangely muted in the early stages?
For this exact moment.
She had done it so that now, just as the other horse girls were being forced to slow, she could suddenly accelerate.
That silver hair flying wildly up and down was her set of wings. She was going to split open the obstacle before her and rise into the heavens.
The sheer splendor of Seiun Ryoka's athletic form was burned into the eyes of the girls behind her, drawing stunned gasps all around.
"She's like a great ship sailing through a storm! Let the waves rage as they will—she remains unshaken! No—not unshaken! She's accelerating! The gap between Seiun Ryoka and the pack behind her has widened to five lengths, and it's still growing! She's still getting faster!"
By the laws of "track relativism," when every other horse girl was being forced to decelerate, Ryoka's "steady advance" became the equivalent of going flat out. How could anyone not be shaken by that?
To everyone else, the headwind was an obstacle—a hardship.
But to her, it was nothing more than background noise meant to highlight her strength.
Her crimson eyes were fixed on the vast distance ahead. There was not a trace of struggle in them—only an unshakable resolve.
Seeing Seiun Ryoka like that, Tokai Teio's eyes lit up.
"So cool! So cool! Seiun-sama is number one in the world!"
The other horse girls dimly sensed how serious things were becoming and began to chase harder—but by then Seiun Ryoka had already opened up a ten-length gap on second place.
And it was still growing.
join here to read ahead.
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